


Healing

by OneDarkWindow



Series: JearminWeek 2018 [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, M/M, Slight Suicidal Ideation, some blood mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-10
Updated: 2018-04-10
Packaged: 2019-04-20 23:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14271888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneDarkWindow/pseuds/OneDarkWindow
Summary: Armin is struggling to adjust to his new role in the Survey Corp; where once his mind was his favored weapon, now he held immense and horrifying power. Now more than ever, he needed answers for himself and the support he didn't know he needed.





	Healing

**Author's Note:**

> Yeeeaaaaaa! Continuing through my JearminWeek2018 fic series for TheJearminCollective on tumblr, today's prompt was Hurt/Comfort. I tried to keep this one canon compliant, and honestly it hurt my feelings to write. Thanks for reading! <3

Their voices echoed in his mind as he lay in his bunk, eyes locked on the ceiling, bargaining with his racing thoughts to let him sleep. He hugged himself under his blankets, changing position in an attempt to face himself away from a previous thought. For the first time, he began to understand the weight that Eren carried having eaten his father. Certainly Armin had warm memories of Grisha just as he had with his own lost grandfather, but in this instance Grisha had been the architect of his own demise. He had asked Eren to trust him, to see the good in what he had done some day even though it meant he was cutting his son’s life short.    
  
And in that way, Eren was now the maker of Armin’s demise. Or was it Captain Levi? He had been prepared to die as was expected of a Scout; to give his life to further humanity in a real sense and a time and place of his choosing. He had chosen to go out fighting the Colossal titan...no...Bertolt...but for reasons he struggled to understand his life was chosen to be kept over that of their beloved Commander. And he knew this was partially because Levi’s desire to preserve Erwin’s memory rather than raise him up a demon was greater than any worth Armin’s life held to him. Surely the Captain had SOME faith in him somewhere, but Armin couldn’t pretend that he was as important to Levi as Erwin. In fact, Armin wasn’t sure anymore that he was that important to anyone; he’d been made a replacement for someone else, and one that fell short of most of the military’s expectations. He could see it in their eyes, people wishing he was Erwin. And it was no paranoid thought; many scouts had voiced the same sentiment directly to him including their new Commander Zoe.    
  
So what could he do? In daylight hours, he would try to be exceptional beneath the watchful eyes of those around him. He offered insight, strategy, and did his best to pay quiet homage to the man he’d looked up to as a role model. At night though, the crushing weight of responsibility kept him awake and sweating. The sweating was new; a gift bestowed by the late Bertolt. His dreams were strange, and blurred the lines between memory and pure fantasy. He hadn’t *wanted* to kill Bertolt; he had to. Though, he didn’t dream it would be like this. Still, to become a titan shifter was literally to give up his humanity and that is what he had set out to do. In every way, his life was no longer his. He was now living for humanity as a weapon, as a replacement, and public mourning of this fact would augment the perception of his weakness. His unworthiness.    
  
He could hardly breathe.    
  
He bit his lip to demand that his eyes stop watering and his nose stop stinging, and normally he could do so, but tonight had been Jean’s birthday and there’d been a celebration and cake and happiness and Armin could not shake the feeling that he wasn’t meant to experience joy any longer. Jean had been acting differently toward him since Shiganshina and their friendship had become awkward, like neither party knew what to say to the other so they exchanged meaningful glances or sat in silence together at dinner. Armin was sure that Jean saw him differently now and for some reason it stung even more than the rest of it.    
  
Armin felt hot tears roll from his eyes and he could not stifle an audible sniff. The scouts were probably sleeping off the drink from the party earlier but he still didn’t want to wake them. Sleep was precious to the Recon Corp. He pushed off his sheet onto the crumpled woolen blanket at the foot of his bed (he didn’t get cold anymore, but couldn’t stand to not be covered) and climbed silently from his bunk to tiptoe to the washroom.    
  
The washroom had been upgraded a bit and was dimly lit by crystals after lights out. They had a shower now, and copper pipes that ran heated water from a boiler outside. It was a true luxury for them, but ultimately it saved potable water and thus it was granted for the heroes after their return to the capital. There were lockers, a changing area, barrel tubs just outside, and private lavatories that needed to be emptied daily. Armin went to his locker and pulled out a towel and his grooming kit and walked back toward the shower hoping the warm water would calm him and the sound would stifle his sobs. It wasn’t the first time he’d done so, and it wouldn’t be the last. As he passed the sink, his golden hair caught in the dim lighting in the reflection of the mirror and he stopped. His reflection was a stranger to him now. He walked over and stared at himself, inspecting the smooth skin of his face. There were no traces of the burns that had covered his entire body, but his flesh was still on fire within. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his forehead, and the light caught the ice blue flecks in his eyes and the tear tracks on his face. His nose was red and the dark circles under his eyes made him look hollow. The shifter lines on his face disappeared into nothing each time, but his mind’s eye could see them still.    
  
And deep within his eyes was Bertolt, staring back from the wrong face with the wrong golden hair that fell to his chin. It felt wrong. Everything felt wrong all of the time and he was tired of pretending otherwise. A wild urge overtook him and he dumped his grooming kit out into the sink, clacking against the porcelain. His eyes fell on a straight razor, one he was issued but had only just begun using, and a memory overtook him. Trost. Mikasa. He’d been willing to die then, too, to ensure their survival but time and time again he’d been wrenched back into life. Even when he’d made a firm decision for himself, it was never respected. Even now, this razor couldn’t take his life the way it might have before. His choices were never his, and it angered him beyond words.    
  
In a small act of rage, he took the razor in one hand and a clump of his hair in the other and slashed it off. A wave of fear and anger and relief swept over him at once, knowing that people would react poorly to this. They’d say he’d lost his mind, but if they’d ever respected his mind when it was made up he wouldn’t be here now desperately seeking control of his life. And now his hair was chopped and uneven, but he had control of something. He sliced through it again, on the other side, and in the back, and anywhere he could reach and for a while he felt empowered and alive with each lock of hair that dropped into the sink. He could start over. He could change his look and become someone else; this new person everyone needed him to be.    
  
But he couldn’t see the back to cut it evenly, and he’d made a huge mess of things. The blade was so keen that he’d nicked his fingers and small cuts dotted his scalp where he was careless, and he’d begun to bleed. The realization of what he’d done hit him with colossal force, and his gasp caught in his throat and choked him. He staggered into the shower and switched it on, barely having the presence of mind to warm it properly. He stripped off his soaking, heavy clothing and sat in the shower to sob. He didn’t care any longer who heard him. They were used to him crying, anyway. No one would care and no one would come, and he’d have to explain himself in the morning. He pulled his knees up to him tightly, the cold porcelain soothing his warm skin as he cried into his arms.    
  
He hadn’t heard Jean enter.    
  
He hadn’t seen Jean’s face when his eyes fell on the disaster he’d left in the sink; the hair and the blood and the razor he’d dropped there. He hadn’t heard the sound of Jean’s racing heart in his chest when the taller boy was convinced his world had ended as he ran to the operating shower to brace himself for what waited inside. To Jean, Armin looked impossibly small with his uneven hair plastered to his head and orange patches of hair spreading like blossoms where he’d cut himself. Tears stung the corners of Jean’s eyes when he fully comprehended what was happening, but his biggest fear was laid to rest: Armin was still alive.    
  
“Armin?” Jean’s voice was soft and careful. Armin thought he’d imagined it. Wish fulfillment. It wasn’t until he felt fingers comb through his tangled hair that he looked up and met Jean’s gaze. The air was heavy and pregnant between them until Jean moved to wrap Armin firmly in his arms beneath the beating shower. He squeezed so tightly that Armin’s breath went out of him as he squeezed back, demanding that this moment be real and that someone accepted him even in this low state.    
  
“Jean.”    
  
“What have you done?” Jean pulled away and gingerly inspected his hair.    
  
“I don’t know...I just...couldn’t...anymore. I’d been thinking about changing it back when that...man...thought I was Historia and he...but...I couldn’t because everyone said it wasn’t a big deal and I...now I…” Armin was lost to sobs again, crying into the sodden fabric of Jean’s pajama top. Jean rubbed soothing strokes on his bare back to calm his shuddering sobs. It might have occurred to Jean that Armin was fully naked some other time, but this moment was too real and too heavy to care about things like that. He’d known how deeply that molester had gotten to Armin and dug his claws in deeply. And Jean had done what he could in his way to make that ok, but he was no therapist. Armin the crybaby was just crying again, people would think, but Jean knew. Here was a soldier who had beaten back demons his entire life, who’d had a full scale breakdown in Trost and kept going. He always kept going, and Armin had become so dear to him that his affection offered defied what was expected of him. With Armin, there was always something more than mere camaraderie and friendship but it was difficult to pin. He wanted to never let go of him now that he had him, but first he’d have to help him be able to face the morning.    
  
“It’s ok, Min,” Jean said as he calmed. “I’ve got you.”    
  
“Thank you...I just...didn’t think anyone would want to,” Armin sniffed and separated himself a little to look at Jean while he was speaking to him. He was surprised to see Jean’s nose was red, and his eyes were wet with tears.    
  
“Oh...Oh Jean I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you,” Armin rubbed his eyes and splashed water on his face to try and smarten up.    
  
“No, I just hate to see you hurting like this. You don’t deserve a fraction of this pain, Armin. I’d never have wished this for you...but the alternative...you would have died...and I’m selfish enough to say that I’m glad you didn’t. I just wish it didn’t cause you so much pain but…” Jean inhaled. “I don’t think I could do any of this without you. I need you, Min. It’s so selfish of me, but I can’t lose you. And that day...Eren said everything I couldn’t. I wanted to, but I froze. I took one look at you and all of the air went out of me. I couldn’t speak, I could hardly breathe. My arm was busted up pretty bad but it didn’t hurt at all compared to what I was feeling then, and it’s been haunting me. How could I have done nothing??” Jean’s voice had grown bitter.    
  
“I’m sorry that I put you in that situation,” Armin said quietly. “I didn’t imagine I might survive. I just did what was necessary.”    
  
Jean choked. “I KNOW that, logically. It was a good plan. A You plan. It saved us, of course. The guy who took down the Colossal Titan should be more impressively lauded but Erwin’s loss seems to have overshadowed that a lot. It’s too much loss, Min.”    
  
Armin stared at him. He’d long wanted to know what Jean had done that day and what had been going on in his head. Eren had told him that Jean was stone silent, and since Jean had been awkward around him since then Armin had taken that to mean that he shared the sentiment that Erwin should have been chosen. That thought, though it mirrored his own opinion, cut him deeper than he expected.    
  
“So, is that why you’ve been so distant?”    
  
Jean lowered his head a little, before nodding. “I just didn’t know how to tell you...how to explain myself…”    
  
“It’s shock, Jean. You went into shock. Probably from your injury and probably because being exposed to the remains of friends is something that affects you deeply. I should have calculated that when I decided to go for it, I just didn’t think of the possibility that you’d see me...after.” Armin tried to explain.    
  
Jean surprised him by pulling him into a kiss. He was clumsy at first, uncertain of himself, and Armin stopped breathing as he absorbed the sensation of Jean’s lips pressing against his so softly that he felt fragile. The world wheeled around him trying to process this, that Jean was kissing him, and it broke something within him that he’d been holding back for so long. When Jean pulled away, slowly as though he’d made a mistake, Armin caught his face in his hands and kissed him back. In many ways it felt forbidden, but in most ways it felt very right; the pieces fell into place. The emotion that drove Armin to protect Jean from titans, from guns, from himself suddenly made sense. He moved his mouth against Jean’s, parting his lips slightly to invite him in, and the two kissed each other deeply as they tangled together beneath the spray. In truth, they could have continued all evening if Armin hadn’t been alerted to the fact that his body was reacting in a way that could not be concealed at the moment, and so he pulled away.    
  
Jean put his fingers to his own lips, contemplative. “I’m afraid I may have stronger feelings for you than I knew…”    
  
Armin nodded, doing his best to cover himself with his hands. Jean gracefully kept his gaze averted from anything other than Armin’s eyes. “Yeah...I think I might too…”   
  
“Do you think maybe I might be a small reason for you to stick around a while longer?” Jean said, swallowing.    
  
Armin nodded. “This is a new development I hadn’t considered.”   
  
Jean paused, then laughed. “You’re finally starting to sound like yourself again.”   
  
“I think I’m starting to *feel* like myself again,” Armin blushed.    
  
“Do you uh...mind? If I take a stab at fixing that mop of yours?” Jean picked up a chunk of Armin’s sopping hair and dropped it as he made a face.    
  
“I do really need help with that, yes. Do you mind? I don’t want to wake Mikasa and Eren would definitely make it worse and I don’t want to have to explain it to him…”    
  
Jean stood up and shut off the shower before handing Armin his towel. “Alright, Jean’s emergency barber skills activate. Have a seat on the bench.” He nodded toward the lockers.    
  
Armin wrapped the towel around himself and obliged. He sat and closed his eyes, comforted by the sensation of Jean’s fingers in his hair and the light feeling of locks falling onto his bare shoulders. He could still taste Jean’s kisses and his scent was intoxicating. When he’d finished, Jean combed through his now much shorter hair to ensure it was even. It wasn’t perfect, but he’d cut his mother’s hair for her to save them some money and it was a skill that never really went away. Armin leaned back against Jean gratefully and exhaled, the exhaustion finally catching up with him. He yawned. Jean leaned down to wrap his arms around him and plant a quick kiss on his cheek. 

 

“All set. You might want to hop back in the shower to wash off those itchy end bits while I clean this up.”    
  
Armin nodded drowsily. “Good idea.” He got up and hopped back into the shower and switched it on, a light squeak escaping his throat when the ice cold water hit him. It took awhile for the hot water to heat again, a fact he’d forgotten. 

 

Jean smirked and cleaned out the sink, reassembling Armin’s toiletries. Jean wondered for a moment if it would be creepy to steal a small lock of Armin’s hair, remembering that some scouts had locks of their significant other’s hair as a good luck charm. He decided that the best good luck charm was a living, breathing Armin, but he pocketed a small lock anyhow because a Scout’s life was uncertain. And he knew that Armin had a known expiration date now and he frowned. A memento, his mother had said when he’d found an envelope with a lock of his father’s hair inside. He’d not understood it then, thinking his mother was odd. Now, though, he began to understand.    
  
Armin shut off the shower and toweled off his hair before exiting the stall. He stopped in front of the mirror to inspect his new look. He felt lighter. New.    
  
“What’s the verdict?” Jean’s voice was uncertain.    
  
“Honestly, I have no idea why I didn’t cut it sooner,” Armin smiled at him. “Thank you. I love it.”   
  
Jean grinned widely, basking in his moment of approval. “You’re welcome.”    
  
“So...are we?” Armin started.   
  
“I think so…” Jean answered.    
  
“Do we tell them?”   
  
“Not...just yet. One shock at a time. It’ll be staggering enough with your hair,” Jean ruffled Armin’s drying hair.    
  
“Yeah. A whole new me. I’m going to try to start over. That’s what I’ll tell them, but it’s true honestly.”    
  
“Good. I’m very much looking forward to it.”   
  
“I am too…” Armin smiled, and yawned again. “For the first time in a long time. But first...I’m going to get some rest before the sun comes up.”    
  
“Oh...yeah I think I should too…”Jean smiled. His features were warm and soft, a look Armin could get used to seeing especially if it appeared just for him. Jean leaned over and kissed him once more, as if convincing Armin that he wouldn’t change his mind about him.    
  
Armin decided to express that he wouldn’t change his mind either, and now he believed in a future he could look forward to.   
  



End file.
